


Attack of the Fangirls

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Masturbation, Post-War, Public Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-20
Updated: 2008-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: A not-so-ordinary day in the life of Ron Weasley opens his eyes.





	Attack of the Fangirls

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This was written for the **_Ron-A-Thon_** for the lovely and wonderful **lnalvgd** , who is truly one of the best friends that anyone could ever ask for. Sweetie, I hope you enjoy this. I tried to make it fun and sexy and to include a few of the things that I know you like. Sooooo many thanks to **grownuphermione** for the super-quick beta and to **thesteppyone** for her lovely reassurances against my overwhelming nervousness. And for a better understanding of certain parts of this, please check out The _Voyeur in the Doorway_ , penned by **lnalvgd** herself, which you can access here: http://community.livejournal.com/helmet_fest2008/3714.html

_Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes_

_July 1997_  

 

“Fred, I’m bored,” George whined, dramatically throwing himself down atop the workbench he was standing behind.

 

“Bored?” Fred asked incredulously.  “What would you rather be doing, watching Bill and Fleur go at it, thinking that we don’t realize what they’re really doing every time they visit the broomshed?”

 

“Bloody hell,” George cringed.  “No.  And thank you – now I’ll have the image of Bill’s arse stuck in my head for days.”  

 

“Always at your service,” Fred said with an exaggerated bow.  “Anything to rid you of your boredom.”

 

“Wasn’t it you who said that everything has become ridiculously predictable?  Perhaps _it is_ time to spice things up after all.”

 

Fred’s eyes twinkled.  “I knew it was only a matter of time before you came around to my way of thinking.”  He grinned the grin of an evil genius and rubbed his hands together slowly as he laughed aloud.  “You ready to give it a go, then?”

 

George nodded, his laugh matching Fred’s.  “And I know just the place to test it out first.”  He smirked as Fred produced two glasses and set them on the table.  “Those cousins of Fleur’s won’t know what hit ‘em.”

 

George reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle that looked suspiciously like Firewhisky but was filled, instead, with a much cloudier liquid than the normal amber of Ogden’s.  He poured it into each glass then picked up the one nearest him as Fred did the same.  

 

“Precisely.  And we are just the blokes to give it a go.”

 

“Bottoms up!”

 

_Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes_

_September 1999_  

“Is this bloody day ever going to end?” Ron muttered to himself, watching the last few customers milling around the shop, unable to keep from glaring at the clock, which seemed to be moving backwards rather than forwards.

 

At last, the last customer exited, and Ron let out a loud, heavy sigh of relief as he locked the door behind him, an older man who’d bought one of each item they sold from the ‘Amorous Affections’ line, after which Ron tried, albeit not entirely successfully, to block the mental pictures racing through his mind.  Because that man looked to be about Ron’s parents’ ages, and the thought of _any of them_ doing _anything_ with any of those products … well, it was too hideous to think about.

 

Not that Ron minded using any of the products from the ‘Amorous Affections’ line himself.  So far, he and Hermione had only tried a couple, but the results from those had been grand enough to put a smile on Ron’s face – and Hermione’s as well – for days after. 

 

_Hermione_.  

 

At the thought of Hermione, a look of frustration mixed with unbridled lust unconsciously played across his face.  Considering that he hadn’t even heard from her since their ‘disagreement’ the previous night, Ron reckoned that she was still more than a little pissed off at him, and he huffed in annoyance as he waved his wand and the shelves began tidying themselves for the next morning.  

 

“It’s not like last night is really my fault,” he muttered to himself.  “It wasn’t like I expected her to come barging into my room just then.  And then for her to ask for _that_ … how the hell was I to expect those words ever to come out of Hermione’s mouth?”

 

Because in all the times they’d shagged – and they had been shagging plenty over the past year – never once had Hermione grabbed him by the collar and asked him to fuck her, much less to fuck her _there_.

 

So what had she expected when instead of answering with a heartfelt “Hell yes!” and finally doing something that he’d _never_ thought she’d allow him to do, he did the one thing that would – and did – infuriate her beyond all reason – he laughed.

 

It wasn’t as if he’d _planned_ to laugh in her face, or even that he’d meant to, but the situation had been so surreal that it had just come out before he could stop it.

 

Of course, he should’ve been better prepared given the fact that she’d come through the Floo looking all wild and sexy and randy, but he’d only just settled onto his bed, trousers unzipped, cock in hand, and begun wanking to thoughts of her since it had been days since they’d last shagged, and he’d been more than a little caught off guard when she caught him in the act.

 

And he was even more surprised when her cheeks had flushed even more, and instead of turning away as he tried to cover up what he was doing since he was quite sure that his prim and proper Hermione would be simply aghast at the sight of him wanking, she licked her lips and crossed the room faster than he’d ever seen her move, grabbing his collar in her hands, looking him dead in the eye, and asking him if he’d ever thought about fucking her … _there_.

 

He’d honestly tried with all his might to control the nervous laughter that ensued, but he couldn’t, even as he heard her banging around and fuming about how her day at work had been positively dreadful and all she wanted was for Ron to make it all better but how he couldn’t even do that right.  And how _Harry_ never would’ve laughed at the thought of shagging Ginny and maybe she needed to find someone more like him, a thought which gave Ron cause for concern on too many levels.  But he’d known he was in serious trouble when, just before she disappeared back through the Floo clutching that damned beaded bag she still carried, she narrowed her eyes, addressed him briskly as “ _Ronald_ ,” and informed him that he should just get back to what he’d been doing before because it was going to be a long time before that part of his anatomy was going to be anywhere near her again.

 

As soon as he’d gathered himself together, Ron had Floo’ed to the flat Hermione shared with Ginny, only to step through to find Harry and Ginny fucking on the sofa.  He’d immediately covered his eyes, turned away, and re-entered the Floo as quickly as he could, although the two seconds or so of Harry’s arse pumping between Ginny’s bare thighs that he’d witnessed was more than enough to give him nightmares for the rest of his life.  And Ron realized, without a doubt, that Hermione hadn’t returned to her flat if Harry and Ginny were out in the open, so he reckoned she must’ve gone to her parents’ house, and he knew full well that he could not, under any circumstances, look her dad in the eye at this particular moment without looking extremely guilty either for upsetting his daughter or for his wanting to do precisely what she’d asked him to do.  

 

So he’d returned home, hoping that she might have had a change of heart.  But she hadn’t reappeared and eventually, Ron did as Hermione had suggested and finished what she’d walked in on earlier, then fell into a fitful sleep.

 

And now, after spending what was to have been his first day off in over a week enduring a long, tiresome day at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, Ron decided that George owed him, and he flipped open the bottom drawer of George’s desk, from which he’d seen his brother pull whisky bottles after many a long, exhausting day, and retrieved the bottle from the back left corner.  Not even bothering to conjure or summon a glass, Ron raised the bottle to his lips and took a big swig.

 

It went down surprisingly smoothly, and it crossed Ron’s mind that perhaps he was drinking too much if he’d become so accustomed to the taste that it no longer burned going down.  He shrugged as he took a second gulp before replacing the bottle where he’d found it and Floo’ing home.

 

It was surprisingly quiet, and it took Ron a minute to remember that Harry was working the late shift that night.  And while he was more than a little relieved that Ginny wouldn’t be making an appearance at his flat, he was more than a little disappointed when it became obvious that Hermione wouldn’t be as well.  Dejected, and feeling unusually light-headed from the firewhisky, he went to bed, once again falling into a fitful night of sleep and waking up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Ginny’s laughter filtering through the flat.

_Oh bloody fucking hell_ , he thought.  _Why the fuck is she even here?_  

“Don’t you want to let me have a lick, Harry?  You’re not the only one who can do truly disgusting things with their tongue.”

 

Ron unsuccessfully bit back a groan, watching in barely disguised disgust as Ginny wiggled her finger, dripping with orange marmalade, in front of Harry’s mouth as she pressed herself against him and spoke in that tone that Ron now, unfortunately, understood was her ‘I want to shag you right now’ voice.  He shuddered somewhat as visions of the more than one occasions that he’d accidentally walked in on them – the most recent being just two nights before – crossed his mind and, to his infinite dismay, he’d seen firsthand the ways in which his sister used that voice in combination with her body, and the affects that both have had on Harry. 

 

_Leave it to Ginny to ruin a perfectly good appetite_ , he thought as he surveyed the scene from his vantage point near the sink, where he stood eating a bacon sandwich.  “Bloody hell,” he protested, setting his plate on the countertop as he leaned against it.  “Can’t you see I’m trying to eat here?  Go do that somewhere else.”  

 

“No, I really don’t think I can,” Ginny replied with a defiant smirk as she thrust her finger into Harry’s mouth exaggeratedly.  “Besides, you left before it got _really_ interesting the other night.  Although …” she continued, “I’d expected you to be otherwise engaged yourself, after what Hermione witnessed.  How’d you manage to bugger that one up?”

 

“Fuck off, Ginny,” Ron grumbled as he rolled his eyes in a manner reminiscent of Hermione and set his plate into the sink before moving to the door.  He eyed Harry, who at least had the good graces to look abashed, despite the fact that he also seemed to be enjoying Ginny’s attention a bit more than Ron appreciated when Ginny offered another finger, this time loaded with treacle. 

 

“Catch you at work,” Harry offered to Ron’s retreating back and Ron waved his hand half-heartedly as he left the room, not a minute too soon he was sure if he wanted to avoid anything more.

 

“By the way, looking good today, Ron,” Ginny called after him cheekily, just as he stepped into the Floo.

 

He was still frowning when he came through the Floo into the atrium of the Ministry, nearly running directly into Mafalda Hopkirk.  Her hand came up to grip his arm as she stumbled, and he noticed, uncomfortably that her grip lingered on his bicep longer than necessary and her eyes swept over him in an entirely odd and most unwelcome way.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, disentangling his arm in a way that he hoped wasn’t too rude.

 

“Not at all,” she said softly – bloody hell, she almost sounded breathless – as she smiled up at him.  “It’s always nice to see you again, Mr. Weasley.”  She gestured to the lift.  “Are you –?”

 

“No, thank you,” he answered quickly, shaking his head, thankful to see Lavender just a short way down.  “I need to speak to someone.”  He took off to the next row of lifts, smiling and waving.  “Hey, Lavender!”

 

She turned and smiled – although if she wasn’t engaged to Neville and Ron didn’t know better, he’d have sworn it was a leer – as she stepped into the empty lift, holding the door open for him to join her.  “Ron Weasley,” she purred, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder.  “ _Always_ a pleasure.”

 

“Er – you, too,” he stammered, completely taken aback at her greeting.  They’d long ago cleared the air about their disastrous dating but the way she was looking at him now reminded him of the lovesick way she’d regarded him then.

 

“So,” she said, sidling up to him, her fingers playing up the side of his arm, “how have you been, Ron?  I’ve been so worried about you, working at your brother’s shop and training here.”

 

“It’s not so bad.  Her–”  His response was interrupted by the sound of the doors being stopped from shutting followed by one of the most unwelcome voices ever to grace his ears.  “Got room for another?”

 

Ron didn’t even try to hold back his groan as Pansy Parkinson pushed her way into the lift.  She nodded at Lavender then fixed her eyes upon him.  “Well, well.  Weasley,” she drawls only semi-snidely as her eyes moved deliberately down his body and back up.  She licked her lips when their eyes met and she moves to his other side, standing so close that they’re touching.  “You’re looking … fit.”

 

“Parkinson,” he replied, even more confused by her greeting than Lavender’s, seeing as she’d never regarded him in any way other than contemptuously.  But the seductive way she was looking at him now was as if she was starving and he was a juicy piece of meat.  And although Ron began to feel claustrophobic sandwiched between them, he was also unable to move of his own volition.  

 

She looks past him to Lavender and smirks.  “Must be all those long, lonely hours of training, wouldn’t you say?”  

 

Lavender ran her nails lightly over his arm.  “Indeed.”

 

Ron became aware of Lavender’s fingernails digging more firmly into his arm and Parkinson’s digging into his arse as they pushed him up against the wall of the lift.

 

“What do you say, Weasley?” Parkinson asked.  “Aren’t you up for the challenge?”

 

“Challenge?” he choked.  

 

Lavender gestured between herself and Parkinson.  “Maybe we should spell it out for him.”  The two of them exchanged what could only be called an unholy glance before they leaned forward around him.

 

_Holy fuck_! he thought, although he at first he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t said it out loud.  _Did they really just …_

 

His eyes widened as their lips met again and all he could see were tongues and hair directly in front of him – Lavender’s long, soft blonde and Parkinson’s short, silky black – as they pressed their spectacular tits into his arms; he remembered Lavender’s well, and every boy in his year had dreamed of feeling Parkinson up at least once after she got hers in third year.

 

He groaned aloud when two hands, which he knew belonged to the two different women, ran up his thigh and across his very hard erection, and he had to force himself not to succumb when their lips left each other and their tongues began to simultaneously run up his neck.

 

“Stop,” he managed, wrenching his way free and hitting the button, causing the doors of the lift to open on level four, and he fled the lift without looking back, running his hand through his hair.

 

As he nearly sprinted to the proper office, he noticed that every woman – and some men – were eyeing him lustfully, and he even felt a few grabs at his arse.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he slipped into her door without knocking.

 

“Herm–” he began, stopping short in his tracks at who he found instead.  “Luna?  What’re you doing here?  Where’s Hermione?”

 

Luna smiled at him serenely.  “Rolf had some very interesting theories on the Crumple-Horned Snorkcack that his grandfather insisted she hear.  She said I could wait for them here.  You can wait with me, if you’d like.”

 

“Sure,” Ron responded and he sat in a chair facing her.  “How are things?” he asked, noticing that Luna, as the others, was gazing at him desirously.  “Everything alright with you, Luna?” 

 

“Of course,” she replied, nodding slightly.  “Although I feel this odd sense of longing for you – something that I haven’t felt since before my fifth year.”  She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.  “I’ve always wanted to try that,” she confessed against his lips, “although I can see where that might present a problem for both of us if their conference were to end at this moment.”

 

Almost as if on cue, the door opened and in walked Harry, followed by Hermione and Rolf Scamander.  Ron jumped, standing quickly and putting space between himself and Luna.  She, on the other hand, simply sat still, watching Ron with amusement and lightly touching the tips of her fingers to her lips.  Ron excused himself to the loo, once again feeling the stares of nearly every woman, young and old, as he passed. 

 

Once inside, he splashed cold water on his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror.  He didn’t look or feel any different, but there had to be something … something that he missed that was causing these surreal events.  It was as if he’d taken a heavy duty love potion or something, but that couldn’t have been it because he hadn’t had anything out of the ordinary to drink.

 

Ron returned to Hermione’s office, once again pushing it open without knocking.  Harry was still there, sitting in the seat Luna had thankfully vacated.  Ron collapsed once more into his earlier seat and let his head fall back against the headrest, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

 

“Harry, have you noticed anything … unusual today?”

 

“Unusual?  No, not particularly.  Why?  Something wrong?” Harry asked, and Ron blindly nodded.  

 

“It’s been a bloody nightmare,” Ron mumbled, throwing his forearm over his eyes. 

 

“Language, Ronald,” he heard Hermione direct from the vicinity of her desk.  “And what’s been so nightmarish about today?”

 

_Well, at least she’s speaking to me_ , he thought, although he could really have done without the superior tone.  He sat up and looked from Harry to Hermione and then back to Harry.  “Everybody wants me.”

 

Harry sniggered loudly and Hermione tutted.

 

“No, it’s true,” Ron insisted.  “Everywhere I’ve gone, I’ve had women _looking_ at me and trying to touch me.”  He looked apologetically at Hermione.  “I think something’s happened.”

 

“Only the women?” Harry asked, still laughing.  “Lee’s not ditching George for you just yet?”

 

“Shut it, Harry,” Ron grumbled.  “I’m trying to be serious here.”

 

Hermione arched an eyebrow.  “You mentioned touching.  Touching how?” she pressed as she assumed _the stance_ – hands on her hips, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing – and he couldn’t help grinning.  He has always loved this look on her, loved watching her get riled up – usually at him – and for the past year, loved helping her to refocus that irritation into something much more _productive_.  

 

“Er- well …”  Ron took a deep breath and looked her in the eye.  “Touching and grabbing and things.”  

 

She looked at him directly.  “Do you think you could’ve been exposed to a love potion?”

 

“A love potion?” he snorted, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly at Harry.

 

“Scoffing, are you?  I seem to recall you falling victim to a love potion before,” Hermione reminded him, a smirk on her face.  “What is it he said, Harry?  ‘ _Harry, I can’t stand it_.’  ‘ _I don’t think she knows I exist_.’  Not bad you can’t convince yourself that was only a nightmare.”

 

Ron fixed her with a glare.  “You think that’s funny, do you?”

 

“I suppose I do,” she answered defiantly.  She came around her desk and stood before him.  “What are you going to do about it?”

 

Ron started to answer, but her lips against his as she climbed into his lap cut off anything that he might have said.  And for the first time that day, he returned her kiss enthusiastically, despite knowing that Harry was still sitting right there and could see how dangerously close her hands were to his zip and his as they slid underneath her skirt.

 

And then he felt them.  Harry’s hands sliding alongside his over the curve of Hermione’s arse, and Ron broke his kiss with her to see Harry’s lips nipping at her neck as she latched her mouth onto his and ground against him faster.  He was about to protest to Harry about what he thought he was doing when one of Harry’s hands reached out and brushed the hair from Ron’s forehead.  Their eyes met, and Harry’s held that same look of hunger that Ron had seen all day as he began to move forward over Hermione’s shoulder …

 

Not for the first time, Ron woke to a wet tongue sliding along his spine and the sounds of Harry’s very aroused moans ringing in his ears.

 

Followed by the sounds of his sister screaming in ecstasy and bellowing her instructions, “Harder, Harry!  Oh yes! Fuck me harder!”

 

And Hermione groaning behind him, her breath hot against his back, her legs and arms sliding around him as she moved against his naked back.

 

_Although_ , he told himself eagerly, as he pushed back against and her fingers began to move slowly over his hip as he pulled her closer, on mornings such as these, when they’ve been awakened by Harry and Ginny shagging loudly in Harry’s room at the other end of the flat and Hermione wakes up blissfully randy, _the morning sex_ – that hot, sticky morning sex before they’ve even left the bed once or brushed their teeth – _is fucking incredible_.

 

And as she bit down on the flesh of his arse and her fingers wrapped around his very hard, very interested cock, Ron mused that it he truly enjoyed the fact that his know-it-all had a naughty side after all.

 

“So fucking incredible,” Harry murmured against his chest, and Ron’s eyes flew open when Harry’s hand replaced Hermione’s and he felt Harry’s bare feet running over his legs …

 

Ron sat up with a start, causing Hermione to follow suit, her concerned, “Ron, what’s wrong?” barely registering.

 

He looked at her with wild eyes.  “I … you … here … dreaming,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face.

 

“Oh, poor baby,” she said soothingly, taking one hand in hers and rubbing his back with the other.  “Another bad dream?  Was it the one where your Auntie Muriel shows up naked to our wedding?  Or the one where we have a daughter who ends up marrying a Malfoy?”

 

Each image made Ron shudder with disgust as he shook his head.  Hermione continued to rub his back, kissing his arm and his fingers, and Ron’s breath steadied as he realized that it has all been a dream – everything he’d thought had happened after she’d come to him, breathless from her voyeuristic adventure with Harry and Ginny, and begged him to fuck her hard, with the promise of trying _those things_ out very, very soon.  

 

He looks around at her; she’s gazing at him with a look of concern and amusement, the sheet pulled up just enough to cover her naked chest, her hair wilder than ever, the smell of sex all over her.

 

And she is absolute perfection and it hits him, suddenly, that he is once again rock hard and has to have her _right now_.

 

And all visions of Lavender and Parkinson and Luna and Harry and everyone other than Hermione Granger soon-to-be Weasley disappear as Ron lies back and pulls Hermione over him and he loses himself in the beauty of being wanted only by her, sure that he will never again be jealous of Harry and his multitude of fangirls.  

  


End file.
